


Air is Our...

by orphan_account



Series: Slaughterhouse Men [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Breathplay, HYDRA Husbands, M/M, Strangulation, Violence, Writing at 3 am ends in 3 lines of dialogue, attempt at trans!Brock, lots of blood, the only Brock I write, transman!Brock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-18 23:59:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4725104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Enemy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Air is Our...

One of Jack’s favorite things in the world was to make Brock happy. It really wasn’t very hard, he was a bit of a puppy; give him enough attention and he was set. They were fairly simple guys, a good mission, a cold beer, and a nice fuck were usually enough to satisfy them both, even with Brock’s little flair for the dramatic. But some days a bloodbath and ringing ears weren’t enough for Brock.

Argentina, data, very standard for SHIELD or Hydra, nothing flashy, but Jack could see Brock was one of his moods. He seemed bored as he gave the briefing before they landed, out of touch.

“…cut and dry, get in, get out, don’t get hit mission,” Brock was saying as Jack started paying attention. He tossed the bag of drives to someone behind Jack as he continued to talk. “We should be wrapped up in thirty or less, so try not to bitch too much. Gear up.”

His little moods came fairly randomly, but often enough Jack knew what he needed. His voice lacked the subtle undertone it normally held and a few others noticed it too, but didn’t comment.

They landed a few hundred feet away from the target site and the team jogged lazily over. They took their job seriously of course, but this almost just as easily could’ve been a rookie training mission, as cookie cutter as it was. No one thought it was worth their Friday evening. A mission would do them all some good anyway and he figured someone had noticed that STRIKE was starting to get a little shifty and more aggressive. He actually recalled Brock practically body slamming a tech the size of Jack a few days earlier, which had been near comical with Brock’s small stature.

He was the shortest member of STRIKE, at only 5’4”. No one made the mistake of commenting anymore, especially since he made up for his missing inches in voice and occasionally tall boots.

Brock’s haze didn’t seem to lift even as they made it through the building. Brock sent another pair down a corridor while a few others started downloading the data they needed onto the drives they’d brought. Jack was being unnecessarily brutal in his kills, breaking bones, shooting knees, point blank head shots that got them covered in blood. He glanced at Brock as the herd started to thin.

“Not having fun?” he asked. Brock never slacked on his kills, but he wasn’t grinning like usual, didn’t have blood in his teeth because he couldn’t stop smiling even when brains were going everywhere. The smaller man shrugged a little.

“Not feelin’ it,” he replied, taking out another guy in the same disconnected fashion. He wasn’t sure what was killing is partner’s mood, but if blood and brains wasn’t helping, he was a little worried. Brock loved violence, he lived for it, really. It was what he did day in, day out and his favorite hobby was playing judge, jury, and executioner. Sometimes Jack played executioner. Brock and he worked well together in interrogations, their communication so smooth, but on top of almost seamless communication, Brock was _nice_. So Jack stood in the corner while Brock talked up a storm with some bastard until he got bored or got what he wanted and then he’d pick his fingernails and Jack would take out the pliers.

In the moment though, when they didn’t have time to really go at anyone though, he knew what really got Brock wet. He gave Brock a short nod and a smirk as they entered the next room. There was a scientist curled up under a table, already pissed himself. At least Jack assumed he was a scientist, he looked pretty nerdy and there was science crap everywhere. But he didn’t give any of that a second thought as he dropped his Desert Eagle on the table and reached down to haul the scientist up. The kid looked terrified as Jack wrapped one large hand around the kid’s- his name tag said Dr. Murray –neck, pressing him up against the wall and squeezing.

They’d learn that was Brock’s thing pretty early on, when, given the choice, his preferred method of murder was asphyxiation. Brock was small, so he either had to come up behind someone and do it, or get them on the ground and sit on their stomach while he did it. They’d tried it in bed a few times, Brock sitting on Jack’s cock while he choked him. Jack didn’t like it, no matter how much he trusted Brock, being killed slowly didn’t turn him on. However, Brock liked to be choked, and Jack was willing to do almost anything that made Brock happy, so he didn’t mind doing it. Grown to like it, even.

Jack stared up at the doctor with bloodlust in his eyes, glancing back at Brock after a moment, whose pupils were blown wide as he watched. The taller man smirked as he squeezed harder and it was only a few minutes more before he was confident enough to drop the man. Brock had wandered closer by that point and was staring down at the man’s limp body. Jack shifted to stand behind Brock, knowing what had to come next. He mouthed and sucked at Brock’s neck, arm around his waist, hand slipping over the front of his pants. He had his packer on, but was skilled enough to get some friction going as Brock raised his gun. They had to confirm the kill and even though he was confident in his kill, he didn’t want to take this from Brock. He smiled and pressed a kiss to his hair after the trigger was squeezed and the dead man’s head exploded.

Brock seemed much happier as they left the target site and boarded the jet. The team seemed grateful for it and Jack was too. He didn’t like seeing Brock in a bad mood. He efforts to please Brock were very highly rewarded when they got home and got to waste away their Friday evening properly.

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from something my mom says to me when I close a bag of food and leave air in it. I thought it was fitting. Also, this is my transman Brock, my favorite Brock, because Hydra is an equal opportunity employer. Please tell me if it sucks, I'd rather not embarrass myself passed my first work.


End file.
